AN OPTIMIST.
"0 aged man, pray, if you know,
Now answer me the truth!—
Which of the gifts that the gods bestow
la the greatest gift of youth?
"0 aged man, I have far to fare
By the divers paths of earth,
Say which of the gifts that with me I bear
Is the gift of the greatest worth?
"Is it the ipight of the good right arm,
Whereby I shall make my way
Where dangers threaten and evils harm
Holding them still at bay?
The old man smiled: the listening breeze
Grew whist on the sun-lit slope*
The old man sighed: "Ah, none of these!
Youth's greatest gift is its hope."
—Florence Earle Coatcs, in Lippincott's.
THE: BETTER WAV.
By Alice C
tpe- psOUISE!" "Yes, auntie."
MWt lim "Where is Bob Hunter?"
T. "He has gone home."
LIB- " S ° ° ARLY " WHY <UD H °
"He had letters to write, lie said."
The old woman glanced at the girl
anxiously. Her eyes were dim, but she
fancied that Louise looked as If she
had been crying.
"My dear," she satfl, softly, "Bob Is
only a man—and—you wouldn't let any
sense of duty stand between you?"
The girl flushed deeply, and turned
her lovely face toward her questioner.
"No, auntie, don't worry; it isn't a
question of duty."
"I thought, perhaps—Bid. Is so close,
he would object to me, and 1 wouldn't,
not for the world, keep you apart. The
poorliouse has no terrors for me—not If
it makes you happy."
"You have a queer notion of what
would make me happy. No, you are all
1 have left, and we'll Tide a wee to
gether.' "
And tile girl pressed her soft check
against the one so old and wrinkled.
"It's hard," murmured the eld aunt
"First there was the old father and
mother you nursed so long, nnd now
there's me—and ho's a likely lad as
ever was. He'll be rich some day."
"Yes," said the girl, quietly. T know
It. He's made of the stuff that pro
duces rich men. Let's forget him, for
he is not of our world."
"But I hoped," persisted the old
woman sadly, "that be might lift yon,
at least, up to his world. You work so
hard, you are only a girl. Yonr life
ought to have been so different"
"His world is not above mine," ex
claimed Loulso earnestly, "It is far bo
low. "I do not care to step down.
Never mention this again, auntie,
please."
But when the winter of snow nnd
rain set In, and Louise had to plod
back and forth a mile through tlic
storm to the little millinery store,
where she was hired nt seventy-five
cents a day, the old woman more than
once brought up the nnine of her old
time lover.
"He's gone to the city," she said one
day, "getting a salary thnt would make
us rich, one year of it"
Louise, pale nnd weary, answered
nothing, but the old woman continued
plaintively.
"Now, if it hadn't been for me you'd
a been living like a queen. Seems like
instead of helping you, as I want to, I
only take all your hopes away. Dear,
dear, how long 1 do live."
"IIusli!" said the girl, sternly, "now
unkind you are! You are all I have In
the world. You are all I have ever had
since—since they went away!"
"You're twenty-five," said the old
woman, softly; "you're the prettiest
girl for miles around. I always
thought •"
"I'd marry. Well, I won't," an
swered Louise, brightly, "for I'm de
termined to be an old maid."
Bob Hunter had been in the city
twenty years. He was no longer
known as Bob, but as Robert Hunter, j
millionaire.
He bad friends, such as they were,
astute business financiers like himself;
servants who ran at his bidding, but
not one person In tho whole world who
loved him.
Even the little errand boys knew Idm
for what he was, hard, cdld and un
charitable. They were paid their stipu
lated prices, never a cent more. This
world and this Ufa was only a place
to live long In, in order to grow rich
and richer.
II" seldom recalled his eld country
home; there were no ties there to hold
him. Only, sometimes, there came n
Booting memory of n fair young face,
the one faco In the world he had truly
loved.
"She was a little fool," he woulu
mutter; "she's been a martyr long
enough. I didn't propose to saddle
myself with that old aunt. Well, she
eho.se her way, I hope she's enjoyed
it."
Accident brought back Ids old home
vividly at last. There was a railroad
running through that part of the couu
try that he desired to buy.
"I'll run out there a few days," he
said; "it will be prudent to do so, and
I wonder how the old place looks by
tills time, anyway. Nobody will reeog
ulze me. I dare say."
But they did; tho newspapers thnt
heralded his name, and the old neigh
bors who remembered him as a boy
wanted to seo the great man be luid
bee omo.
A number of old friends, as thoy
were pleased to call themselves, un
dertook to show him around ODd to
point out the improvements that twen
ty years had brought about.
There was a new court house, a new
(ail, and, lastly, a fine, large building,
lately erected for tho county poor.
Bob did not enre a copper cent to be
shown any of tho affairs, but be bad
"Is it the strength wherewith I shall climb
Where few before have trod—
. To the mountain tops, the peaks sublime
That glow in the smile of the god?
"Is it the never-failing will,
Invincible in might,
Which armed against oppression 6till,
Shall vanquish for the right?
"Or is it the heart, thou aged man!—
The heart impassioned, strong—
Which shall be blest, as naught else can,
In perfect love ere long?"
McKeever.
Uls own reasons for being civil, henee
he permitted himself to ho dragged
hither and thither and at last actually
found himself Inside the handsome
new poorhouse.
"The matron will show us through,"
said the obsequious friend. "Who
knows but you may run across some of
your old acquaintances," he added,with
a light laugh.
In one of the large halls they passed
a woman bending over a little child,
who was sobbing bitterly. The woman
sut in a low armchair, nud her face
was hidden, hut the mass of brown
hair rolled In a knot at the nape of her
neck was heavily streaked with gray.
"Get out of the road, Jimmy," said
the matron. "You are always getting
hurt." Then turning to the woman
she said, "Have you finished the
shirts?"
Tho woman raised her head nnd re
plied softly thnt she had. The sun
light streaming In through the window
brought her head and face and slight
form Into bold relief.
Ho saw her plainly, ber voice had be
trayed her even before he had known
or guessed her identity. Yes, it was
Louise, older, frailer, helpless and a
beggar, no, not exactly that, for It
seemed even here she was n toller as
of old.
"My God!" ho thought, "how long
has she bee n here?"
But they hurried him on, nnd when
oneo mor i In tho open air he felt he
had not reached It any too soon. He
was never so near a fainting lit in his
life.
"Are yon ill, Mr. Hunter?" inquired
more than one.
"A little," he rcpll d. "I think I will
go to my room at the hotel and rest
until supper."
But no sooner did he find himself
alone than ho sent for one of the maids,
a girl that he knew had always lived
in the place.
"Mary," said ho, "I want to ask you
a few questions, and you're not to
tell any one a thing I shall say. If I
make you n present of five dollars, do
you think you can held your tongue?"
Mary tossed her head and eyed the
five-dollar bill.
"I can tell the truth without being
paid. As for telling anything else, no
money could make mo do that"
"Very well, my girl, I only want the
truth. When was Loulso Upton taken
to—to "
He did not finish, something seemed
to choke back the word.
The girl's eyes opened nnd grew
round as saucers. Ah, she remembered
now hearing her granny tell that
Louise Upton had once had a lover
who had gone away nud grown rich.
Could It bo this was he?"
"Only a year ago," she answered
softly, pitying the man she saw was
really suffering. "She worked as long
as she could, hut It was rheumatism
crippled her feet nud she could not run
a machine, then her hands were bad,
too, and—and there wasn't any one to
take care of her, so she asked to bo
put where she is."
"How long lins her aunt been dead?"
"Her aunt! Oh, I can just remember
her; about fifteen years, I think. But
a nicer, sweeter lady than Miss Loulso
couldn't he found. Lots of us cried
and would have helped her, but she
said no, she would go where she be
longed."
"Where she belonged!" repeated the
rich man in a tone of voice that made
the girl's oye3 sparkle.
"Here is yoiu - money; take It, and
I'll not forget you, either."
"Thank you," said the maid, smiling
joyously. "You are very kind."
Very kind! Did the walls take up
the words and echo and re-echo them?
Kind, very kind! Him; kind!
110 sat lor an hour with closed eyes
nnd compressed lips; then as the shades
of evening stole around, ho passed out
and sought oneo more the matron of
the county infirmary.
"It is i t the hour for visitors," she
said crossly.
But when he explained that lie must
see one of tho Inmates privately, and
tendered another flve-dollar bill, ho was
qnlekly admitted.
110 waited for her in a cold, damp
room called the reception room, and
she came at last—at last. The door
opened softly, there was a thump,
thump of two crutches over the floor,
nnd Louise, wondering and surprised,
stood before him.
He hawed and wheeled forwnrd n
small sofa upon which she sank, more
nnd more surprised, for Bhe did not
recognize him,
"Louise," he said, huskily.-cotnlng out
Into the stronger light "Lotilse, don't
yon know me?"
"Bob—Bob Hunter!"
"Yes," he said, taking n seat nt her
side. "Bob Hunter. Don't yon want
to shake hands?"
She half extended her hand nnd then
drew back.
"Don't, if you don't want tow" I 'ft '
"Oh, It isn't that—but my hand "
He knew, when he took It almost by
force; the pretty, white hand that had
been was now drawn and toil-marked.
He held it between both his own, his
head bent over it, while a hot tear fell
upon it.
Louise felt her breath coming and
going at a most surprising rate, while
she could not speak.
"I've thought It all over, Louise, ever
since I found you here, "this afternoon.
I never knew what a cold-hearted vil
lain I was before, hut I know it well
enough now. "
Still Louise was silent.
"I loved you. I have never loved any
one c'.se, but money was my God, and—
and it conquered me. But to-day,when
I snw you so frail and helpless nnd so
poor, and thought of all your life had
been, and contrasted It with what it
might have been, had I not been so
cruel In tho past, I felt that I wanted
to go out and shoot myself."
"But you didn't," said Louise, smil
ing with something of her old bright
ness.
"Mo, because back of It all was a lit
tle hope, a faint rny indeed, but I
thought, perhaps, even If you hated
me, you might let me see that—that
you never wanted for anything. If
you don't, I won't answer for the con
sequences."
"Fie, Bob?"
"Of course, there's a better way—
that is, if you don't hate me after all,
wlileh do you choose?"
The cold and cheerless room seemed
to - ..ango to one of radiant splendor,
wkeu he bent over to hear her low re
ply:
"I have always tried to choose 'the
better way.' "—Household Companion.
I.aftt Days of Clifford's Inn.
Clifford's Inn, London, which in the
course of a few months will have gone
the way of some other Inns, and have
been knocked down In the course of
modem Improvement by the hammer
of the auctioneer, had retained as be
came an Institution which Is the pre
mier of Its kind, and dates from the
days of Edward 111. more than one
quaint manner and custom. The so
ciety, for instance, was governed by a
principal and rules, and the rules were
just as much incarnate as was the prin
cipal—more so, Indeed, some of them.
Latterly, to obviate any invidious dis
tinction, all the members were tnnde
rules. There was also a "Kentish
mess" at which you might consider tt
rather a privilege to be asked to dlno.
Dinner ended, the napery of an ex
tremely long and highly polished black
mahogany table would bo whisked off
wtth a swift dexterity unexampled
elsewhere. And then there would be
brought to the President what looked
like a hammer and was a little hard
baked loaf, and, anon, send It skim
ming to the other end, there to be as
dexterously caught In a basket. In to
ken that the fragments that remained
of tho banquet were pannlered for tho
poor.—Phlladedphla Telegraph.
Earth** Most florgrons Pitlacit.
Seventy-four years after St. Peter's
at Rome was finished. Shah Jehan was
building the most magnificent palace In
the East—perhaps In the world—the
beautiful Palace of tho Moguls at Delhi.
It Is made of red sandstone nnd white
marble; some of Its walls and arches
are still Inlaid with malachite, lapis
lazuli, 'bloodstone, agate, caruellan and
jasper. There were once sliver ceilings,
silk carpets and hangings embroidered
with gems; the pillars were hung with
brocades; the recesses were filled with
china and vases of flowers, treasures of
tlio goldsmith's craft, also, 110 doubt
from Frnncsyind Italy—the Italy of tho
Renaissance and the France of Mavy
of Medici. Beyond doubt there was the
famous Peacock Throne "a sort of
large four-posted bed all made of gold,
with two peacocks standing behind It,
their tails expanded nnd set with sap
phires, rubies,-emeralds, pearls and dia
monds, while a parrot cut out of a sin
gle emerald perched upon the tester." On
the front side of the canopy was a dia
mond—the Koh-i-noor, now among tho
crown jewels of England. Tavcrnler,
tho jeweler, who was at Delhi In 1(1115,
beheld these wonders and thought they
represented, all told, "200,000,030 of
livres,"—Collier's.
Woman's Uenily Wit.
South Wales proudly tells this story
as proof woman's superior wit:
An inland revenue officer called to In
quire if a lady had a license for her
dog. Slio politely asked him to come
In and sit down while sho looked for
It. In a few minutes she smilingly en
tered the room, bearing the license.
Then it appeared she had In the mean
time paid a visit to tho postofiice at the
corner.
From Yorkshire, says the London
Express, comes a story that surpasses
this one from South Wales.
A bailiff bad to seize tho furniture In
a cottage. He knocked at tho door. A
relative of the woman who rented the
house presented herself. She wore a
woe-begone countenance, and whis
pered with her forefinger before her
mouth: "Hush! Sho is going. Call
again. If you kindly will, sir!"
The officer of tho law was compas
sionate. He postprfned his visit for a
week. The relative again appeared
upon tho scene, and, with tears In her
voice, said: "She's gone! She's gone!
And she's taken all tho furniture with
her!"
A School For Ilakcrg.
There Is hardly a phase of modem
Industrial life but which can be learned
at some school specially devoted to Its
teaching to better or oqual advantage
than tlio old-tlmo apprenticing system.
If there was 0110 branch that had beoD
overlooked It was that of the baker
and confectioner, but this Industry Is
no longer so neglected, -as tho London
National School of Bakery nnd Confec
tionery offers a course of the most ad
vanced Instruction In this work.
t®luct\ and © ©
© © /\dv©nturo.
HOUSE CLIMBED A STEEPLE.
-—JIOME of the feats of horse
l=j o=lj manshlp on record are so
W | marvelous as to be almost
.L3 j incredible were they not
lull [[jOll supported by the unim
peachable evidence of so
many who actually witnessed them.
It is not many years since a reckless
Dane made a wager that he would ride
Ills horse to the summit of tho spire of
St. Saviour's Church, in Copenhagen;
and, Impossible as tho feat may ap
pear, he actually won his wager and
decsended to the earth In safety. The
contemporary accounts of this mad
performance are in the highest degree
thrilling, with their picture of the
blanched, breathless crowd looking up
with straining eyes at the horseman,
growing smaller and smaller as he
wound his way round and round the
dizzy, narrowing steeple, expecting
every moment to seo horse and rider
dashed to pieces at their feet, until at
last he stood sllouhetted against the
sky on the topmost pinnacle, and
waved his hand triumphantly to the
crowd so far beneath him.
To understand this feat at all it Is
necessary to say that tho spire was
climbed by a steep and narrow stair
case, which winds around it; but think
of the daring, the courage and coolness
necessary to accomplish such a climb,
when the most trifling slip or loss of
balance would have meant a swift and
terrible death.
A similar feat was performed by
that adventurous monarch Ferdinand
VII. when he rode his favorite horse
to the top of the tower of Seville cathe
dral. This, however, was a less haz
ardous performance than that of the
Dane, for there is a fairly wide Inclined
pathway which climbs the tower; nl
thongh to tho spectators It seemed Im
possible that the King could ever
emergo from the venture alive.
There Is an account of a feat of
horsemanship which seems more won
derful than either of those doserlbed.
It Is stated in the records tfiat in the
year 1000 a man rode to the top of St.
Paul's on his horse Morocco, to the
amazement of thousands of onlookers.
If this feat orcr had any existence out-
Bido ot tho Imagination of Its chron
icler, it Is probable that the ascent was
made by a staircase which may have
been a feature of old St. Paul's.
Almost equally wonderful are the
feats recarded of a pair of thorough
bred Arabian horses, the property of
Professor Holloway, of Wyoming.
These horses have been trained by
their owner to make dives of seventy
feet and more Into a lake. "At a signal
one of them starts up an Incline at a
quick walk until he reaches a platform
seventy feet above the lake below. The
professor ,1a standing on tho shore, and
as tho horse looks down from the plat
form ho calls, 'All right f At tho sound
of his voice tho horse, without a sec
ond's hesitation, leaps from Ills pin
nacle and, flashing through the air, dis
appears In a cloud of spray, from
which he quickly emerges and swims
briskly ashore."
It Is doubtful whether any horseman,
however daring and expert, can excel
the skill of some Cossacks. When rid
ing at full gallop they can pick up a
child from tlio ground and toss It high
In tlio air and natch It repeatedly like
a ball. They will, also at a gallop, leap
off their horses, pick up any small ob
ject, nnd without checking the horse's
speed leap In a standing position on his
back.
They will rldo their horses down pre
cipitous cliffs, on which there scarcely
Seems footing fornn agilo mountaineer,
or leap them thirty feet down into a
river; while a common feat Is for a
Cossacli galloping at full speed to
snatch a needle nnd thread from one
of his fellow and thread the needle In
less tlmo than would seem posslblo In
an armchair.
Few of theso performances, however,
are more astonishing than that credit
ed to John Leech Manning, who rode
his horse Into an upstairs dlntng-room
at the White Ilart Hotel, Aylesbury,
nnd Jumped him over tho dlning-tnble.
In describing the feat ho says; "Noth
ing was removed from the table; in
fact, tho dinner wns actually going on.
I Jumped the horse barebacked with
out bridle. The horso performed he
fore more than forty gentlemen, who
were dining after tho steeplechases."
Some of the records of long-distance
lidos are well worthy of nolo, as when
Mr. Osbaldoston, tho famous squire
sportsman of seventy years ago, rode
200 miles nt Newmarket In eight hours
nnd forty-two minutes, in November,
1831. using twenty-eight horses for tho
journey. In October, 1701, Wilde cov
ered 127 miles on horseback at tho
Currngh In six hours nnd twenty-one
minutes; nnd twenty-six years ago
Leon, the Mexican rider, rode 100 miles
at Alexandra Farlc In three minutes
under five hours, nn average speed of
more than twenty miles an hour. In
the following yenr Loon covered 505
miles In less than fifty hours, a won
derful feat of endurance.
A CLOSE CALL
General Edward M. Hayes, hot re
cently mado a brigndler-gonoral. Is one
of the few remaining old-time scien
tific soldiers. He has seen service In
tho cavalry since 1855, when he enlist
ed as a bugle* to tlio old Second Cav
alry.
General nnyeo Is large In stature,
but with nil his huge size and military
bearing, ho Is a quiet, soft-voiced gen
tleman, easy in his manners, awl as
much a plain citizen as though be had
never lived with regular soldiers. Yet
he has seen more phases of life tban
most other officers now to the army.
He Is ow ot the few loft who served
in the old army of the days before the
Civil War.
It was in the days when most ot the
vast country lying west of the Miss
issippi Itiver was n trackless wilder
ness that "Jack" Hayes, as he is
known to his brother officers, enlisted
Ilis tirst tight with the Indians took
place in 18,57, near the Brazos River,
and the next year, 1858, he went on
Van Dorn's expedition against the Co
mauekes, and was in the famous tight
of Wichita village, which proved to he
one of the greatest battles ever fought
between the American Indians and
tho United States soldiers.
In 1859 he was in the bnttle of Jun
gle Hollow, which was also fought un
der General Van Dorn, and in 1850 he
was in another indlan light, this time
under command of Fitzhugh Lee. This
was his last Indian battle before the
great Civil War.
It was during this period of service
that Colonel Hnyes, then a bugler, six
teen years old, saved the life of Fitz
hugh Lee. This, he says, is the story
of the incident:
Lieutenant Lee and Hayes had been
to see Sara Houston take the oath of
oillce as Governor of Texas at Austin.
On their return it was learned that In
dians had made a raid, killing a few
settlers and running off some cattle.
Leo took twelve men and Hayes, and
started after them. He struck their
trail the next night, and followed It for
more than lLfty honrs, at the end of
which they came up with the Indians
on a plain near a timbered bridge. The
command charged the Indians, and In
a short time had the band on a run.
Tho Indians scattered, and two of
them made for the timber on the right.
These two, one the chief,were followed
by Lee, Hnyes and a trooper. Lee and
Hayes happened to see an Indian dash
for a patch of rocky ground. The
trooper was left in charge of the
horses, and Lee nnd Hayes started
after tho Indian on foot. They had not
gone far when Lee called:
"Look out. Jack; he Is not far from
hero. There is his blanket."
As lie said this, Lee picked up tho
blanket, which was a bright red, and
hung it on his gun. A moment later,
Hayes henrd loud talking, nnd turning
around, saw Lee and the Indian In a
hand-to-hand battle. The Indian had
shot Lee through the arm with an ar
row, nnd Gien had jumped upon him
from behind, before Lee could use Ills
pistol. In the straggle, the pistol fell
to the ground. Hayes went to Lee's
rescue, but was afraid to shoot lest he
should hit the wrong man. Lee at last
got hold of the Indian and shot him
through the jaw. This did not disable
lilm, however, nnd when It was about
all up with Lee, Hayes fired and killed
tho Indian.—-New York Sun.
IN AN EARTHQUAKE.
I shall long remember my first expe
rience with an earthquake. Early In
October of 1000, I was at Homer Spit,
that lies between Chugnclilk nnd
Kachcmak Bays. I was very anxious
to get some men to go with me Into the
mountains, and, hearing there were
four. living In a cabin at Anchor Point,
twenty-five miles north of Homer Spit,
whoso services I might secure, I start
ed out afoot to find the place. I did
not leave nomer until 1 p. ra., and
night then came very early In these
lntltndes. I felt euro, however, that
I should reach the place before It be
came very dark, and I might have done
so, but the only route was along tho
beach, and In many places It was ex
tremely rocky, affording very uncer
tain footing; then, at short intervals,
small streams poured over the high
sea-walls, nnd spread over the sands
of tlie beach, where I was compelled
to wade them, nnd my footwear wns
soon full of water. I had not gone far
when n cold rain commenced to pour
down upon me in torrents, and I was
soon thoroughly soaked, nnd my cloth
ing, much increased In weight, clung
to mc, and greatly rctnrded nty pro
gress. After ninny trying adventures,
I arrived at the cabin late at night, so
tired that I lost 110 time in stretching
myself In a pair of blankets, on tho
floor, and was soon nsleep. I had
slept several hours, when I wns awak
ened liy ft very peculiar nnd unusual
sensation. The cabin was rocking and
creaking and performing all sorts of
strange evolutions, and everything
loose on the floor nnd walls was play
ing hlde-nnd-seek, In nnd out of Its
dark corners. My first Impression was
that our hillside was sliding Into
Knchemnk Bay. I hurriedly staggered
to tho door, very much after tho stylo
of walking In a rapidly moving ex
press train while rnnuing over a rough
road-bed. When I opened the door. I
could seo by the coming light of day
that our hillside was yet intact, and
then I realized what was taking place.
I was really delighted, for I had ofteD
wished for tho experience, nnd, unlike
almost all other experiences in the
north. It came to me without any effort
011 my part. From "An Explorer-
Naturalist In the Arctic," by Andrew
J. Stone, in Scribner's.
Tlio Knlsor In Plain Clothe*.
(Jormnns have seen the Kaiser
In plain clothes, says the London Ex
press. Yet he does wear them some
times, hut only when it is absolutely
necessary, for he prefers uniform, even
at home.
The time he Is in mufti In Berlin Is
when he goes to his tennis court He
tlien wears a white flannel suit, but
out-of-doors covers it with a military
cloak.
When he Is In England, however,
mufti Is the rule. This is also the only
time that anybody has ever seen the
Kaiser in a dinner jacket or a black
dress coat
Formerly the Kaiser ordered all his
plain clothes from England, browns
and light grays being his favorite col
ors; but now he orders everything In
Berlin nnd Potsdam, mostly In the lat.
ter place* •
* Farm Topics*
TO BREAK A HALTER TELLER*
Several horsemen have given theil)
methods of breaking horses from pull
ing nt the halter. The best method*
and most effectual I ever saw tried is
to buckle a strap around the ankle of*
one of the forward feet, and then run F"
the halter through the hole in the.
manger or hitching post and tie the
end to the strap around the ankle.
One month's application if sure to
cure.—ll. W. Hardy, in New York
Tribune Farmer
EARLY POTATOES.
Early potatoes should be of a variety,
that will come early. While the yield
of the crop is important, yet the crop
that gets into the market a week
sooner than usual will bring 100 per
cent, more In price. Seedmeu offer new,
varieties every year, but so many of
them are claimed to be "the earliest"'
that it is impossible to make a selec--
tion. There are, however, well-known
early varieties that have been tested*
and they should be given the prefer
ence until something better has beenJf
tried in a limited way.
SELF-ADJUSTING HARROW.
The tool herewith illustrated you
will observe is hinged at the front end
to prevent leaving a strip in the mid
dle. Make a strong hinge similar to
the clevis for each side, the coupliug
/p cue Vis dirtq:
J /
pin acting as a tooth; thus you can ad
just the harrow to any uneven width
of row, cleaning the entire space at
one trip. Take a trace chain four feet
long, staple the ends to side pieces, one
third way back; this not only prevents
the horse from raising the front end
from the ground, but spreads the har
row, thus counteracting its natural
tendency to close. As an orchard tool
they are unsurpassed, as they can be
closed up while passing a tree, thus
avoiding injury.—The EpitomlsL
SYSTEM ON THE FARM.
System and order are laws of na
ture. Too many of our farmers disobey
these laws, by doing their work in a
confused, unsystematic innsner, hav
ing everything and about the farm
yard kept in a disorderly way, allow*
ing buildings to become ragged a
tottering, and carrying on the general
management carelessly and recklessly.
System and order are necessary in
every trade or profession, and not least
in farming. They are essential as
economizers of labor and expenditure,
us well as promoters of happiness and
comfort. The man or woman who
does not plan may toil incessantly from'
early morning till late at night with
out accomplishing as much as he or
she who has worked systematically for
a much shorter period. Have a definite
plan of work. If there are several to
do the work, let each one be assigned
a certain part of it, thus avoiding con
fusion nnd delay. Have a place for
tools and implements, that they may
easily be found wlien needed. See that
all machinery Is in running order by
the time the season for its use lias
come. It Is well to have machines
looked nfter before putting away afteiv.
having been used. Keep buildings anil jf
yard in order and neatness, nnd farm
life will be more pleasurable and profit,
able.—Gustav M. Bruce, in The Epit
omise .
CARE OF THE BROODER. ;
Use dry sand, sawdust or even paper
on the floor of the brooder, changing
frequently. An occasional serubbiug
with soap and water will aid in keep
ing the floor sweet and clean. Polish
up the glass and allow the chickens
the benefit of the sunshine whenever
possible.
A hydro-safety lamp is much better
than a common oil lamp. Trim tbo
wick nnd fill the lamp as often as there
is tlie least danger of the oil becoming
exhausted. It does not pay to run the
risk of having the light go out and the
chicks become cbiled. If lime is used
in the brooder, sprinkle plentifully l
with some non-Irritating substance to
prevent Injury to tbo feet of the little V
chicks. As the brooder is the home of r
the chicks and they are confined ex
clusively to It for the first few days,
during that time it requires extra care.
Small trays for feeding are useful,
both for keeping the feed from he
coming filthy huil for preventing it
from becoming mixed with the litter
on the floor."" A small fountain should
be used for watering the chicks. I
usually take a small tea plate, pour
it about two-thirds full of water and In.
vert a saucer in the centre, or a bowl
Inverted will do as well. Sometimes
I use n lint dish nnd cover with a
stone, leaving only sufficient room for
the chicks to insert their heads and
drink. This keeps tho floor compara
tively dry, which is a great help to
ward keeping tho brooder clean.
An occasional airing and sunning
will sweeten the brooder wonderfully.
Take an old scrub brush and some boil
ing soapsuds, scour out the brooder
and leave In the sun until thoroughly
dry. Turn so that every part will
come In direct contact with the rays.—
Mrs. C. B. Barrett, in New England
Homestead.